Fool the World
by rubycaspar
Summary: AU, Merlin meets Mulan. Gwen disguises herself as a man and joins the army to protect her father - now she just has to make sure that her trainer, Prince Arthur, doesn't discover the truth. Gwen/Arthur.
1. Prologue

**A/N – **This is a complete rip-off of Disney's Mulan, and proud of it. A lot is different because the characters themselves are quite different from their counterparts and of course the cultures are quite dissimilar, but a lot of the dialogue will be pretty much lifted from the film. Please let me know what you think!

**Prologue**

"Arthur – _Arthur_. Wake up."

Arthur groaned, and refused to open his eyes. "I swear to God Merlin, this had better be a nightmare, because if it isn't I am going to –"

"Something's happened – the King needs to see you right now."

Arthur opened his eyes and peered at his manservant, who stood next to his bed holding a candle. "What's going on?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. But a messenger arrived and the whole Council is being summoned to the hall – you've got to go there now," he said.

Arthur sat up and threw his cover off, while Merlin set about lighting some more candles. Arthur tried not to panic as he threw on a shirt and a robe, but he knew that whatever was happening couldn't be good news – his father wouldn't call Council in the middle of the night unless it was for something terrible.

"What time is it?" Arthur asked as Merlin brought him his boots.

"Just before dawn," Merlin answered.

Arthur nodded and hurried out of his chambers, Merlin on his heels.

The rest of the council was already there by the time Arthur arrived at the hall, all looking a little bedraggled but deadly serious. "What's happened?" Arthur demanded without any preamble.

"Iwan has invaded," Uther said gravely. "The army was spotted crossing our Northern border last night."

Arthur closed his eyes briefly; they'd been expecting the invasion for weeks now. He took a deep breath and nodded. "I will ride out to meet him, and beat him back," he said decisively. "I will-"

"No, Arthur," Uther said sternly.

Arthur's eyes widened. "Father?"

"The army is large, at least eight thousand men," Uther said.

Arthur gaped at him. "_Eight thousand_?" Their army, when collected together, was no more than five thousand, and it had never been assembled, not in Arthur's lifetime. Camelot had enjoyed a generation of peace, and perhaps had grown too complacent because of it.

"At least." Uther folded his arms. "Our only choice is conscription – I am sending notices to all of the Eastern villages. Their goal is Camelot, and to avoid battle beforehand Olfred will have to pass through the Western mountains to reach Camelot; while he does you will train our reserves in the East."

Arthur's expression hardened. "Olfred is leading them?" He should have known. Olfred was King Iwain's son, as cold and ruthless as his father, with sword skills unmatched by anyone, except perhaps Arthur himself. Well, they would soon find out; Arthur silently vowed that he would personally see Olfred dead or back in Mercia where he belonged.

Suddenly, Arthur realised what else his father had said. "Wait, you want me to _train the reserves_?" He exclaimed.

Uther nodded. "Yes, I need you to get them battle-ready, as swiftly as possible," he said.

"But father, I should be with the troops – I should –"

"You should be where your King tells you to be," Uther said sternly, glaring at him. Arthur immediately dropped his head submissively, and didn't watch as Uther advanced on him. "No one has more training experience than you do, Arthur, and I need someone I can trust to get the job done," he said.

Arthur nodded. "Yes Sire."

"Sir Leon and the other knights will lead the army; you concentrate on getting the reserves ready before a fortnight is out."

Arthur looked up again. "A fortnight?"

Uther nodded. "With eight thousand troops, Olfred cannot expect to pass through the mountains any faster," he explained.

Arthur nodded slowly. His father was right, but a fortnight was not a lot of time. The conscription notices would be sent out today, and men would begin to arrive at Hinwic the next day, but it would be a couple of days before training could start in earnest. Still, it wasn't impossible.

"They will be ready, father," Arthur promised.

Uther nodded and turned away to talk about conscription notices with Baron Odon. Sir Leon walked over to Prince Arthur. "I will not fail you, Sire," he said quietly.

Arthur nodded at his faithful second. "I know," he said. "The army couldn't be in better hands."

Sir Leon smiled slightly. "That is not _quite _true," he said ruefully. Arthur shook his head, and Leon smiled again. "But the King is right – you are the only person able to train the reserves quickly enough."

Arthur nodded. "Perhaps." He shook Sir Leon's hand and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Leon."

"You too, Sire," Leon replied.

Arthur turned to Uther. "Father, by your leave, I will go and prepare," he called across the room.

Uther nodded. "Of course," he said. He held Arthur's gaze for a moment but didn't say anything else, and Arthur bowed and left the room.

Merlin was waiting in the corridor right outside, and hurried along in his wake. "What's happening? Where are you going? Is it something bad? Do you need me to do anything?"

"Shutting up would be a good start," Arthur said, pushing his way into his chambers. "Mercia has invaded – four thousand men."

Merlin gasped. "_Four thousand – _"

"We are conscripting troops, and I am to train them to be battle-ready in a fortnight," Arthur explained. "We leave for Hinwic in an hour."

TBC


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_Clang. Clang. Clang. _

Gwen thrust the metal into the glowing embers beside her, watching carefully as it returned to the burnt orange colour it had been before. She pulled it back out and went to work with her hammer again.

_Clang. Clang. Clang. _

There was nothing more satisfying to Gwen than working in the father's smithy. She had practically been raised within its smoky walls, spending hour upon hour sitting on the bench against the wall, watching as her father bent metal to his will. When she was a little older, she was able to help by minding the fire, keeping it as hot as he needed. When she was older still, he had taught her how to work the metals, how to wield the tools. She had wiled away her adolescent years mending armour and shaping swords, but recently hadn't had the time she used to have, though she could still escape to the smithy if she had a spare hour or, even better, she had some frustration to work out.

Which was why she was there right now. In a dress. It was quite foolish, metalworking in a dress; skirts had the tendency to catch on fire at inopportune moments. Gwen had bunched hers up at the back so it was drawn up quite tight over her knees at the front, but she was still having to be extra-careful. Ordinarily she would slip into a pair of leather breeches if she was working near the fire, but she couldn't change out of her dress right now; and _that_, incidentally, was why she was frustrated.

An old friend of her father's was coming to dinner, a minor lord from somewhere or other to the South of Camelot, and he was bringing his son with him. Gwen's father thought he was being subtle, but really he was as subtle as the anvil Gwen was hammering on.

Gwen was highly doubtful that she and this lord's son would fall in love at first sight, and instead was fairly certain that she had a very awkward afternoon ahead of her. She didn't relish the idea of making small talk and trying to ignore her father's encouraging stare. It wasn't her – she wasn't... _ladylike_. Her father was a knight, yes, but that was as far as her nobility went. Her father had never really pushed her to be more accomplished – at least not in the _usual _accomplishments – but now that he was suddenly seemingly eager for her to wed, Gwen couldn't help but feel she was severely lacking in some way.

So, here she was, hammering out a breastplate and trying not to think about Lord Mensen's imminent arrival. She would just finish this last section and then head back to the house – they weren't due for another half an hour or so, so she would have plenty of time to –

"_Lady Guinevere?_"

Gwen's head snapped up and her hand slipped, the red-hot breastplate clunking against the anvil. The door to the smithy was open, and in the doorway, framed by the late afternoon sun, there stood a young man of obviously very good family, looking at her with something akin to horror on his face. It could only be Blake, Lord Mensen's son.

Gwen dunked the breastplate into the barrel of water next to her and ducked under the steam, heading for the door.

"Yes – hello, I am so sorry; I must have lost track of the time... I can get quite engrossed in my work once I get going," she explained as she walked over to the young man. He looked nice enough – not ugly, but rather plain.

"Your... your work?" He stammered. His eyes flicked down to Gwen's bare legs and then quickly up to the wall. Cursing silently, Gwen reached behind her and untied her skirts, letting them fall down around her legs again. She quickly inspected her dress – which was her nicest one – it was unharmed, though a little creased; but she knew for a fact that she had ash all over one side of her face, and was probably bright red from heat and exertion. Lovely.

No wonder Blake looked so horrified.

"My apologies," Gwen said. She bobbed a small curtsy, and smiled as though nothing were amiss. "You must be Lord Blake."

Upbringing belatedly kicked in, and Blake nodded, bowing slightly to her. "I am," he said. "I – your father said you were walking in this area... I did not expect to..." His voice trailed off and he looked away.

There was an awkward silence, until Gwen cleared her throat. "Let's, er, shall we go back to the house?"

Blake nodded and started walking straight away. Gwen bit her lip. It looked like love at first sight was _definitely _out of the question.

~*~

There followed an extremely unpleasant couple of hours – at least they were for Gwen. Blake's father was a charming older man who was much better at hiding his reaction to Gwen's appearance than his son, but she could still see the horror in his eyes. More important to Gwen had been the disappointment she had seen in her father's. Gwen had never seen him look at her like that before, and it shook her to the core.

Gwen cleaned herself up and the four of them ate a light meal; then the two visitors had to leave to reach their next destination before it grew too dark. Soon it was just her and her father again, as it had been much of her life.

Tom sat down in his favourite armchair in front of the fire, and Gwen waited for him to say something about her behaviour. He didn't speak a word, though – instead he just stared into the flames in the hearth.

After a few minutes, Gwen couldn't take it any longer.

"I'm sorry," she said. Tom looked round at her with his eyebrows raised, and Gwen continued in a rush. "I just popped in for a moment but I lost track of time and I –"

Tom shook his head. "Gwen, love... I'm not angry with you," he said quietly. "I just... I want you to be happy."

Gwen frowned. "I _am _happy."

Tom sighed. "You're alone."

Gwen stood up and stalked over to her father's side. "I am _not_ – I have you."

Her father smiled and took her hand. "I'm not going to be around forever –"

Gwen shook her head. "Don't talk like that," she said. She crouched down next to his chair so they were face to face. "Don't talk like you're on your last legs. You and I both know that's not true."

Tom smiled at that, but then the smile turned sad, and he squeezed her hand. "I just want to know that, when I'm gone, you won't be alone," he said.

Gwen wanted to give him a sassy retort, but honestly she didn't have one. Apart from some friends and acquaintances in the village, Tom really was all that Gwen had. They had no other family, and Gwen had never left Ealdor, not since she and Tom had moved there from Camelot. Gwen didn't like to imagine life without her father, but she knew marriage to some young lordling wouldn't do anything to combat her despair in that situation.

But she didn't say that. Instead she kissed his hand and said "I know".

Tom smiled and stroked her hair. "I love you."

"I love you too, father."

As was his usual habit, Tom dozed in his chair while Gwen set about clearing away their dinner things. They didn't have any servants; Tom had always said it wasn't worth it, for just the two of them, and Gwen agreed. Their house, while the largest in Ealdor, was certainly not too large for her to keep clean herself, and to tell the truth she enjoyed the work. It made the house feel more _hers_, somehow. They had used to have a housekeeper, a family retainer of Tom's who was more like a member of the family than a servant, but she had died ten years ago.

As she washed the plates in a tub of water, Gwen thought over what her father had said. She loved her father with all her heart, but the truth was that she _was _lonely.

Gwen's mother, who had died when she was barely a year old, had been a village peasant when she'd met Tom, the young and dashing knight of Camelot. But Tom had fallen head over heels in love with her, and married her despite the disparity in their ranks. She had left Ealdor behind and gone to Camelot with her husband, where they had lived happily for five years. But then she had been killed in a raid on the city, and Tom had been badly wounded in the same battle. When he'd recovered - not fully, he would always walk with a limp from that day on – he had been given a special dispensation by King Uther, and had left Camelot behind. He'd brought the baby Gwen back to her mother's home village, to the house that he'd had built for her grandparents (who had also recently died), and it was there they lived.

The problem was, really, that the villagers of Ealdor never really stopped thinking of Tom as 'Sir Thomas Leodegrance', and that meant that Gwen was 'Lady Guinevere', no matter how many times she asked them to forgo her title. There were a few villagers she felt she could count as true friends – Hunith and her son Merlin (though Merlin had left Ealdor for Camelot a year before); Will, the miller's youngest son (he was gone too, now – apprentice to the potter in the next village) – but mostly Gwen had always felt separate from the other villagers, who all viewed her as a lady.

But Gwen couldn't feel less like a lady if she tried. She didn't embroider – she sewed when she needed to mend things; she didn't know any courtly dances or play fine instruments – instead she knew how to make swords and mend armour. She wasn't brash but she also wasn't afraid to speak her mind – no one would ever think her a wilting flower. She didn't own, let alone wear fine dresses, and was often seen wearing trousers instead. She hardly ever did more to her hair than pin it up out of her way.

So yes, Gwen was lonely, but she was also positive that marriage was not the answer. Gwen was a firm believer that marriage should be for love and love alone, and she knew she could not give her heart to a man until she knew what was in it; she needed to find herself... she just wasn't sure how to go about it.

The sun had almost set when the clattering of hooves on the small cobbled yard announced someone's arrival at the house – a rare but not unusual occurrence. Tom was one of the best specialist blacksmiths in Camelot, and lords and knights would often send their armour great distances to be mended by him. Gwen hurried to the window to look out into the yard, and saw at once that the new arrival wasn't there on business – at least not smith business anyway. The seal on the bag hung on the horse's saddle was unmistakable; he was a messenger from the King.

"Father!" Gwen called as she ran to open the front door.

Tom was already out of his chair and walking as quickly as he could manage to the open door. The messenger dismounted and pulled a small scroll out of the saddle-bag.

Gwen followed Tom outside, but stayed near the door.

"Leodegrance?" The messenger asked briskly.

"Yes," Tom answered. "What's going on?"

"The Mercians have invaded Camelot," the messenger said. Gwen gasped and Tom's back stiffened, but the messenger didn't leave them time to comment. "By order of the King, one man from every family must join the army."

Gwen frowned. What?

Tom was silent for a moment, and then nodded. "I see," he said. He held out his hand, and Gwen suddenly realised what the scroll in the messenger's hand was – a conscription notice. _One man from every family._ But Tom was the only man, and that meant...

"No!" Gwen cried out, and she flung herself forward, placing herself between her father and the messenger before he could hand over the scroll.

"Gwen!"

Gwen ignored her father, her eyes on the shocked messenger. "Sir, my father has already served the king – he was a knight but he had to –"

"Gwen!" Tom's hand closed over her elbow and spun her round to face him. "Get back inside, now."

"But-"

"_Now_, Guinevere." His eyes were hard as flint, and Gwen had no choice but to scurry back into the house and watch helplessly as the conscription notice was handed to her father.

"Report tomorrow to Hinwic," said the messenger.

"Yes sir."

The messenger remounted and rode away – Tom stood watching him go, his back straight and proud, his chin held high. Gwen drew a shuddering breath, fighting to hold back tears of anger and frustration. This couldn't be happening – he couldn't do this.

"You can't go," she said firmly.

Tom turned to face her, his face impassive. "I can, and I will," he said evenly.

Gwen ran back out to him, and grabbed his arm. "You shouldn't have to go! There are plenty of young men who can fight for the King – your leg –"

"It is an honour to protect my king, and my kingdom, and my family," Tom said, his face still set.

"So you'll _die_ for _honour_?" Gwen exclaimed.

Tom's mask suddenly broke, and he shook his arm free. "I will die doing what's right!" He shouted. "I know my place, Gwen – it is time you learned yours."

He stalked back to the house, but paused in the doorway, looking back at her. All anger was gone from his expression, replaced by sorrow, but he didn't say anything. After a moment he went into the house.

The tears that Gwen had been holding back spilled over, and with a strangled sob Gwen turned on her heel and ran. She didn't stop until she reached the smithy, but she didn't go in – instead she slid down the wall of the building until she ended up sitting on the ground, her knees hugged to her chest. A light rain began to fall.

He couldn't go. If he did he would die, Gwen was sure of it. Tom had been one of Camelot's best knights, but he hadn't picked up a sword except to mend or make it in twenty years. He could barely walk properly when he was rested – the slightest exertion had him reaching for his cane. He would not survive a battle.

_One man from every family_. Why, _why_ wasn't she a man?

Gwen's sobs gradually ceased, and she lifted her head to look back at the house. A light was shining in one of the upper rooms – it was a room used for storage, where Gwen knew her father's old armour was kept. Gwen could see her father's shadow moving about as he prepared to leave the next day.

There was nothing she could say that would make him stay.

Nothing she could _say_.

But there was something she could do.

~*~

Tom awoke very suddenly in the early hours of the morning. He lay very still in bed, listening for any strange sounds, but there was nothing. He closed his eyes and willed himself to go back to sleep, knowing he needed rest before the morning, when he heard the stable gate bang on its hinges; that must have been the noise that woke him up.

He sat up slowly so as to not aggravate his hip, and then stood and began to shuffle to his window. If the stable door was open, he would have to go outside and check on their horse, Ama. She probably knew better than to leave her stall in the rain, but you never knew. She also needed a good night's rest before their journey to Hinwic.

Tom sighed and looked over at his trunk, where the conscription notice was sitting. Then he frowned.

It was gone.

Tom limped over to the trunk and checked around it and even in it – no sign. He was _sure _that's where he'd put it. He looked around the rest of the room – it wasn't there. Perhaps he had left it in the other room, when he'd been packing his armour. He left his bedroom and started along the hallway, but had only taken a few steps when he saw that Gwen's door was wide open. He fought down a rising feeling of dread and peered through the door.

Her room was empty, her bed still made. And there, in the middle of the mattress, was a note.

_I love you._

_Do not come after me. _

Tom collapsed to the floor, Gwen's note crumpled in his right hand, and wept.


	3. Chapter Two

Thanks for the reviews so far, this is where it (hopefully) starts to get fun...

**Chapter Two**

Gwen supposed there were certain things that should be preying on her mind at that moment – for one, she was about to attempt to join the army, a crime punishable by death if she was found out... that should probably be a worry. It was early afternoon now; her father would be sitting at home, grieving that his daughter had run away. Gwen knew her father would be devastated by what she'd done, and she felt bad for causing him pain... but that wasn't exactly preying on her mind either. Neither was her hunger, her tiredness, or the discomfort of the bandages she had wrapped round her chest to bind her breasts.

No; the thing that Gwen was most concerned about, as she stood on a wooded outcrop overlooking the Hinwic camp, was her hair.

Or, rather, her lack thereof.

It was obvious logic – if she was going to pass as a man, her hair had to go. She'd taken a pair of scissors to it before she'd left home the night before, and now it was shorn to just a couple of inches short all over. Gwen had barely been able to look in the mirror after she'd done it; it wasn't that she was a particularly vain person, because lord knows she wasn't, but it was her _hair_. _All _of it. It felt like losing a limb – her head felt lighter and yet she could still feel the phantom weight of it on her shoulders. Now, staring down at the dozens of tents and timber fortifications that made up Hinwic, Gwen couldn't help but feel completely exposed, and inexplicably desperately missed her hair.

She sighed and turned back to her horse, Ama. Gwen had taken her saddle and pack-bags off to give her a bit of a rest – they'd made good time to the camp, and could afford to take a moment before... joining up.

What was she doing? This was _crazy_.

Gwen shook her head to clear it of such thoughts – this was _for her father_. She just had to remember that, and everything would be fine. As long as he stayed safe, nothing else mattered. She walked over to the discarded pack-bags and triple checked the armour and clothes inside; the armour and the shirts and jackets were her father's, but she was wearing her own work breeches and boots. Everything was in order – not that she would have been able to go back for anything if it wasn't. She was dressed in one of her father's shirts and jackets, both of which were too big on her but not so huge as to look ridiculous. Her conscription notice was tucked away in her inside pocket.

It was time to think strategy. She was here; she was dressed as a man; now she just had to get in without anyone suspecting the truth.

She cleared her throat nervously and faced a tree. "Good afternoon – I am here to sign in," she said, with as much force behind her voice as she could manage. It turned out not to be a lot – even she could hear her voice trembling. She cleared her throat again. "I am here to join the army," she exclaimed, grasping the pummel of her sword. "I pledge my sword to the –oh!" Her sword got stuck when it was only half out of its scabbard, and Gwen lost her balance and fell forward into the tree. Luckily her hands came up just in time to stop her face smashing into the trunk.

She pushed her sword back in and turned around to lean her back against the tree trunk. Ama was staring at her, probably wondering why her mistress was acting so strangely, and Gwen sighed, her head dropping into her hands. "It's going to take a miracle to get me into the army!"

"You could say that again."

Gwen gasped and jumped to her feet, looking for the source of the voice. How had she not realised she wasn't alone? Oh god... she wasn't alone. That was it, she was caught out and she hadn't even made it as far as the camp! Gwen's eyes fell on the speaker, standing about ten feet away from her, next to a large elm. He was watching her with a wide-eyed expression that she knew only too well.

Her jaw dropped. "_Merlin_? Is that you?" She couldn't help but smile despite her surprise – she hadn't seen him in so long, and suddenly –there he was!

Merlin raised an eyebrow, and didn't smile back. "Gwen," he said in a clipped, exaggerated tone that clearly spoke of his displeasure of finding her there.

Gwen's smile faded and she shook her head. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

Merlin let out a disbelieving 'huh!' sound, and walked over to her. "Me? What are _you _doing here?" He demanded.

Gwen bit her lip and looked down at her poorly-fitting clothes. "They tried to conscript my father," she told Merlin truthfully. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "I couldn't... I couldn't let him come."

Merlin's face cleared and he looked at her in wonder. "You're trying to take your father's place."

Gwen nodded. "Yes."

"Are you _crazy_?" Merlin exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Women aren't allowed in the army!"

"I _know _that," Gwen said, rolling her eyes. "I'm pretending to be a man."

Merlin's jaw dropped. _"What_?"

Gwen took a step closer to her childhood friend. "Merlin, I have to do this," she said seriously.

"No, you don't," said Merlin, shaking his head. "You _can't_! It's the death penalty for a woman who impersonates a soldier –"

"I know," Gwen said solemnly. She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, looking Merlin square in the eye. "It's a risk I have to take."

Merlin rolled his eyes and turned away, starting to pace. Gwen watched him for a moment, remembering the many times she had seen him do exactly this in the past. Seeing Merlin was like opening a window to her youth again – he had been her best friend, and it hadn't been easy to smile and wave goodbye when he'd gone to Camelot the year before. It wasn't the most perfect of reunions, but she was glad to see him nonetheless. She wondered at it though – shouldn't he be in Camelot? Hunith had told Gwen that Merlin was Prince Arthur's manservant now.

A horrible, sneaking suspicion entered Gwen's mind.

"What _are _you doing here?" She asked him.

Merlin stopped pacing and turned to face her again. "Prince Arthur is training the new recruits."

Gwen swallowed. Oh no. She'd never seen him, of course, but she'd heard tell of the crown prince; heard that he was the best warrior the kingdom had ever seen – brave, fiercely loyal, a great leader... and the king's son. If anyone was likely to take her duplicity especially badly, it was him. "Oh," she said after a moment.

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, and if he finds out that you're –"

"He won't," Gwen said quickly, trying to assure herself as much as Merlin.

Merlin shook his head silently, staring at her, and Gwen instantly felt bad for the position she was putting him in. Merlin wouldn't give her up – she knew he would never do a thing like that – but that meant he was going to have to lie to the Prince about her, now that he knew the truth. Gwen tried to look properly contrite, as he was probably thinking the same thing.

"What have you done to your hair?" Merlin asked suddenly.

Gwen's hand automatically flew up to touch the short strands, and was once again filled with a horrible sense of loss. She shrugged it off, literally. "Well I couldn't very well go in with it long, could I?" She said, trying to make light of the change.

Merlin frowned, and then shook his head. "It's not enough," he said. "You look... you look so _girly."_

Gwen shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you _know _I'm a girl, so of course _you _see it..."

"No – look at how you're standing!" Merlin exclaimed, waving a hand at her.

Gwen frowned. "What?"

"Well, for starters – don't clasp your hands like that; fold your arms or something," Merlin said, pointing at her. Gwen looked down and saw that she had her hands clasped demurely in front of her. She gave Merlin a sheepish look and folded her arms.

Merlin nodded. "That's better," he said. "And... put your feet further apart, don't be so... dainty."

Gwen looked down again, not really sure what Merlin meant, but obediently stood with her feet further apart. "I didn't realise I was being _dainty_," she said.

"Yeah, well, be careful, it's a dead giveaway," said Merlin seriously. "And... scratch a lot. And spit. Things like that."

Gwen once again ran a hand through her cropped hair and nodded. "Thanks Merlin."

Merlin was still frowning. "What about your voice? You definitely _sound _like a girl."

Ah. She hadn't really though of that. Gwen thought for a moment, and then cleared her throat. "How about this?" she said, in an affected deeper tone.

Merlin blinked at her. "Isn't that your impression of Will?" He asked.

"Yes," Gwen said sheepishly.

Merlin's mouth twitched. "You know, despite how _insane_ you are being here, it's good to see you again," he said.

Gwen nodded, her own lips twitching. "You too – I missed you," she said. Merlin shook his head but then quickly darted forward and hugged her. Gwen grinned and hugged him back, and saw Merlin was smiling too when they pulled apart.

His smile disappeared immediately.

"_Don't smile_," he said sternly.

"What?"

"Your smile, it's way too... pretty," Merlin said.

Gwen chuckled. "Always a charmer," she said playfully.

Merlin shook his head. "I'm serious Gwen, _don't_," he said.

Gwen had never seen Merlin look so serious – the boy she knew never looked serious about anything. She realised in that moment that a lot must have happed to her friend in the year they'd been apart – somewhere in that time, he'd grown up. Gwen swallowed nervously and nodded. "I won't," she promised.

~*~

Hinwic was a good hour's walk away, and so Gwen was able to learn some of what had happened to Merlin on the way there. Merlin barely paused for breath the entire time, and Gwen suspected that he missed have someone to talk to – someone who knew his secret, that is. Gwen had known about Merlin's ability for basically as long as she could remember, and it was the only thing she'd ever kept from her father. When she'd been very young, she'd not given much thought to Merlin's magic, it was just a part of who he is. As she'd grown older, she had begun to realise the danger Merlin could be in if he was ever discovered – magic was forbidden in Camelot, punishable by death. Even in an outlying village like Ealdor there was no telling what might happen, and so everyone who knew about Merlin had kept very quiet. Gwen had been extremely worried by the idea of Merlin going to Camelot, the very centre of the anti-magic regime, but Hunith had insisted it was for the best, and Merlin had been so excited. In her heart, Gwen had known that Merlin was too special to be stuck in somewhere like Ealdor all his life – he was meant to do great things.

And it seemed he had, though no one knew it but his guardian, Gaius – and now her.

"So how is it being Prince Arthur's servant?" Gwen asked after a while. Merlin had mentioned Arthur so many times in his stories that she felt she had to ask about him.

"Hard work," Merlin said. "But fine – I mean, since I'm his personal manservant I'm pretty high up the servant hierarchy."

"There's a servant's hierarchy?"

"Oh yeah. You wouldn't believe how much backbiting goes on in the kitchens!"

Gwen laughed. "It sounds... fun."

Merlin laughed as well. "Yeah, it kind of is," he said. "But it's difficult sometimes, trying to keep my magic secret in front of Arthur – I swear he gets into trouble on purpose sometimes, just to annoy me. Wouldn't put it past him."

"What do you think Arthur would do if he found out about you?" Gwen asked.

Merlin's face darkened. "I honestly don't know," he said. "Part of me thinks that he wouldn't turn me in, but that's probably wishful thinking."

"But you've saved his life so many times..."

Merlin snorted. "I think that's what'll offend him the most," he said. "Magic he could handle. Me saving _his _life... he'd hate that. He was prissy enough over the Lady Helen thing."

Gwen quirked an eyebrow. "He sounds positively charming," she said sarcastically.

"He's alright," Merlin said quickly, a little defensively. Gwen raised both eyebrows at that, but decided not to say anything. She would soon have the opportunity to form her own opinion of the Prince. She swallowed down her nervousness and tried not to let it show as they neared the entrance to the camp.

It was strange, but Gwen felt oddly _aware _of her body as she led Ama up to the Hinwic gate. She remembered what Merlin had said about her looking girly, and she couldn't stop thinking about every tiny movement she made, worrying that it was too feminine. She scratched her stomach as she and Merlin approached the guards on the gate, remembering the advice he had given her, and made her expression as sullen as possible.

Merlin strode on a couple of paces ahead of Gwen, and called out to one of the guards. "New recruit," he said, gesturing behind him to Gwen. "I'm gonna take him to Bodin."

Gwen eyed the guard nervously, but he didn't so much as glance at her before nodding and waving them through; she didn't know whether it was because he knew and trusted Merlin or because he just wasn't very good at his job... either way, Gwen was grateful for it.

She was in the camp; step one complete.

"Who's Bodin?" Gwen asked, catching up with Merlin.

"Master at Arms," Merlin answered. "Real hard-nose. Everyone has to report to him when they arrive."

Gwen nodded. "Right," she said weakly.

"This way," said Merlin, leading the way through the maze of tents and huts. Gwen followed him dumbly, trying to seem small and uninteresting as well as manly and tough, while at the same time trying to take in everything she could. She couldn't see any real order to the way everything was laid out – everything was a complete shambles, or so it seemed to her. Tents had been pitched everywhere, and where she could see through the open flaps Gwen could see men – conscripted soldiers – and they were men such as she had never seen them. There was not a single other woman in the camp, and these men were clearly taking advantage of the fact. Well, Gwen hoped they were; she hated to think that they would act so... lewd... in the presence of women.

Two men stumbled across the path in front of Gwen and Ama, carrying a large trunk between them, and one of them called the other a name so rude that Gwen had to turn her head away to hide her blush. Her eyes fell on a tent to her right – the flap was open, and there was a man inside lounging on the ground, chewing on a hunk of bread and scratching his stomach. His hand started scratching lower and Gwen gasped and turned her head again – the next man she looked at was picking his nose, and as she watched pulled his finger out to examine what he'd found. Then he ate it.

Gwen gulped and hurried to catch up with Merlin. "I don't think I can do this," she groaned quietly to him.

Merlin stopped, looking delighted. "Really? Okay – follow me, I'll show you a way out..."

Gwen grabbed his shoulder. "No, wait – I... I can. I just need to..." Her voice trailed off as she stared over Merlin's shoulder.

"Man up?" Merlin suggested.

Gwen nodded, but she wasn't really paying attention. Behind Merlin there was a circular, fenced-off area, and six men stood inside it, sparring with each other in three pairs. They weren't wearing armour, or any kind of protection – just breeches and shirts – and a fight was over when one of them disarmed the other. Several other men were leaning on the fence, and whenever anyone lost their sword one of them would leap in and take their place.

Gwen could make a sword from scratch. She knew what were the best metals to use, the optimum heat for the forge, everything there was to know about balance and style... but she couldn't wield one. She'd asked her father to teach her once, and he'd laughed and said that there were some things she didn't need to know.

And now she was here. She wouldn't last a minute in a sword fight.

Merlin turned around to see what Gwen was staring at. "Sword training," he said unnecessarily.

Another man got disarmed, but just as one made to jump in and take his place, another man place a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. This man jumped into the ring instead, and the five men inside all lowered their swords and turned to face him.

Gwen was too far away to hear what he was saying, but it was clear that this new man held some kind of authority over the others. He turned so Gwen caught a glimpse of his face, and she was surprised to see that he was young, probably around the same age as herself. He was tall and muscular and had golden hair that seemed to glint in the late afternoon sun. He wore simple black breeches and a red shirt, but the sword in his hand was clearly of good quality.

As Gwen watched, the man pointed at two of the men, and a moment later both attacked him at the same time. He parried their attacks with an ease that took Gwen's breath away, disarming both of them within seconds. He was speaking to the group as they retrieved their swords, and then all five men in the ring swarmed round him, attacking. His sword moved so fast it was like a silver blur, and Gwen's jaw dropped as, one by one, the five other swords fell to the ground.

Gwen had never seen anything so... impressive.

Gwen glanced at Merlin, and saw that he was watching her with amusement. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could a deep, bitter voice spoke out from behind them.

"Conceited welp."

The speaker was a middle-aged man, about a head shorter than Gwen and with coarse black hair pulled back into a short ponytail. His hair and beard was streaked with grey, but his eyes were bright and lively. He had a long thin scar running from his right temple down his cheek and neck and disappearing under his collar. His soldier's uniform was worn but immaculate, and he was glaring at the swordsman.

"Hello Bodin," Merlin said cheerfully. "I've brought a new one for you." He clapped Gwen on the shoulder.

The man – Bodin – turned his face towards Gwen and ran an appraising eye over her. She stood still, trying to look as unfeminine as possible, and also not like she was about to throw up. After a few seconds of staring at her, Bodin grunted, and beckoned another, younger soldier over to him.

"You see to this lad," he said, turning back to his tent.

Lad – he called her lad! She was in! It took everything Gwen had to remember what Merlin had said about not smiling.

The younger man came over and started circling Gwen, looking her up and down. With Bodin, Gwen had felt that the man was really looking. With this man, Gwen got the feeling he was just enjoying the power he had over her, and her hackles went up.

"Better put him with the archers – weakling looks like he couldn't lift a dagger, let alone a sword," he announced after two complete circles around her. Several other soldiers nearby laughed nastily, and Gwen's nostils flared angrily.

She pulled out her sword – this time it came out properly – and glared at the man who'd been circling her. She cleared her throat, remembering her voice just in time. "As you can see, I can definitely lift a sword," she said coldly.

The man sneered. "Yeah, but can you use it?"

_No_.

Gwen wasn't about to admit that. She glanced at Merlin, and saw that he was watching her with a strange mixture of worry and pride. She knew she was doing the right thing – a man wouldn't back down, and neither would she.

"Let's find out," she said, with much more courage than she felt.

The man laughed again, and pulled out his own sword. Then, quicker than Gwen could even think, he'd did something with the sword point and her own sword went flying – all Gwen could do was watch as it fell to the ground out of reach.

"Guess that's a no," said the man, who then dropped his own sword, reached out both hands and shoved Gwen in the chest.

She tried to keep her balance but it was no use – she stumbled and fell back, and as she did she crashed into something hard behind her. She heard gasps around her, and Merlin call out "OY!", but she wasn't hurt, and she jumped back to her feet and ran at the man who'd pushed her over. He was looking the other way, laughing with his friends, and didn't see Gwen until she tackled him round the waist, pushing him to the floor with her. Gwen kind of lost track after that. She'd been in fights before, but not since she was a little girl, and even then it hadn't exactly been more serious than squabbling with Merlin or Will over a toy or something. She was aware of being kicked, and of getting a few punches in, and then of quite a few more bodies joining in the fray, and soon she was pressed into the grass and unable to move but to cover her head with her arms as at least four men fell at her.

"ENOUGH!"

It was Bodin who had yelled, and Gwen's attackers immediately jumped off of her.

"He started it, Sir!" Exclaimed the man who'd disarmed Gwen.

Gwen stayed where she was for a moment, assessing her injuries. She was aching in quite a few places and was sure to have some colourful bruises the next day, but there was no serious damage. She raised her head just in time to see Brodin walking over to her, looking distinctly grim.

"What's going on here?"

Gwen's head whipped round towards the new voice, and her eyes widened when she saw it was the swordsman in the red shirt. He was still holding his sword in one hand, his chest heaving as though he'd been duelling a moment before. Now that he was closer, Gwen could see that he extremely handsome... not that she was there to notice things like that.

Bodin grunted. "Nothing I can't handle, _your highness_," he said, the last two words stated in a highly sarcastic tone.

Gwen's eyes widened still further and she turned to stare at the swordsman again, realising that this man was the legendary crown prince himself, Arthur.

He didn't look happy.

Gwen scrambled to her feet as the Prince walked – no, _stalked_ was more like it – over to her, and stopped right in front of her, glaring. "I don't need anybody making trouble in my camp," he said coldly.

"Sorry," said Gwen, looking away. She suddenly realised that she had spoken in her normal voice, and quickly deepened her tone, trying to cover her slip. "I mean, I'm sorry about that... er, you know how it is when you have those... manly urges, then you just have to kill something..."

Oh dear _god _what had made her say that, of all things?

Prince Arthur glared at her. "What's your name?" He demanded.

"Gwen," she answered without thinking "– _don_," She added quickly. She cleared her throat. "Gwyndon. Or, just Gwyn."

"Where's your conscription notice?"

Gwen quickly pulled out the scroll and handed it to Prince Arthur. He gave her another glare as he unrolled it, but his expression quickly cleared as he read it. "Leodegrance? As in, Sir Thomas Leodegrance?" He asked her.

Gwen nodded, a little surprised that he knew of her father. He couldn't be old enough to actually _remember _him, could he? She'd thought he was only a couple of years older than herself.

"I didn't know Sir Thomas had a son," Prince Arthur said now, snapping Gwen back to the present.

Gwen thought fast. "He...er... doesn't talk about me much," she said, shrugging.

Prince Arthur gave her a suspicious look. "Merlin?" He called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Gwen. "Didn't you say once you knew Sir Thomas?"

Oh no. Now Merlin was being dragged into it – and so quickly, too.

Merlin came and stood next to Arthur, nodding. "Sure. Yeah. He lives right near me," he said. "I've known... Gwyn... all my life."

Gwen caught Merlin's eye and started to smile, but he shot her a glare and she stopped. She quickly folded her arms and made sure her feet were far apart, like he'd said. Prince Arthur was looking at Merlin with narrowed eyes, and then turned back to Gwen, who stared back at him, concentrating on keeping her face impassive. It helped not to look at the prince, so she stared over his shoulder instead, at the fence around the fighting area she'd first seen him.

"Very well," he said after a moment. "Well, _Gwyndon_, as the son of a Knight of Camelot, you should know better." He thrust her conscription notice back at her, and stalked past, towards the men she'd been fighting.

"Thanks to your new friend Gwyndon here, all of you will spend this evening picking up every single grain that got spilled here," he announced.

Gwen frowned and then realised that the thing she'd crashed into had been a barrel full of grain, which were now scattered over the grass. She closed her eyes briefly and opened them just as Arthur turned back to face her. "Tomorrow, the _real_ work begins."

Gwen gulped.

The prince narrowed his eyes at her once more and then turned and walked off, sword still in hand.

The soldiers started grumbling, glaring daggers at Gwen, as Merlin sidled up to her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"That went well," he said.

"MERLIN!"

Merlin gave Gwen an apologetic smile. "Duty calls," he said. He shrugged and ran after Prince Arthur.

Gwen sighed and turned to the barrel of grain. Yes, it certainly did.

TBC...


End file.
